


The First Time

by RobinWritesChirps



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Angst and Porn, Blow Jobs, Charlotte is fucked up yo, Cheating, F/M, Porn With Plot, References to Addiction, Shameless Smut, Smut, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 16:47:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20439254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinWritesChirps/pseuds/RobinWritesChirps
Summary: She hadn't planned it. She had never meant to open her arms and her home to the office asshole and take him to bed. She also hadn't planned for her marriage to fall into shambles, to feel alone more often than not even in her husband's presence. It was a terrible idea and no plan at all, but for once in her life, Charlotte was going to be selfish. For once in her life, she was going to feel good.The first time Charlotte let Ted in. Give her a break, she's trying.





	The First Time

The way home was torture and ecstasy.

It was a short ride from work and passed in the blink of an eye, yet an eternity. Not a word was exchanged, but enough had been said already, too much, and Charlotte was breathless with terror and anticipation. Next to her, Ted was humming cheerfully. His hand was casually resting on her lap as he drove and the burning mark it left might never leave her skin, her soul. She wanted him to touch her always, or to never touch her again. She had longed for that contact, any contact for ages, so long she had forgotten how to live with it. The streets she knew so well were foreign to her, unfolding fatefully through the window of his car, but she couldn't look the other way for fear her eyes would cross Ted's. She didn't know what she would make of herself if they did. Five intersections till she inevitably found out, four, three... Her heart was pounding. Before she knew it, he was pulling into her driveway left empty for the weekend, some training at another precinct, Sam only back Monday morning, and they walked out together to her demise.

Her hands couldn't hold the key. She'd found it with difficulty in the impeccable order of her clutch, for her hands were limp as cotton. She nearly dropped it too, only saved by Ted's reflexes and their hands were clasped together as they opened the door of hell itself. One turn of the key, was that all it took for her downfall? But that was a lie of fake humility. Charlotte knew all too well that, though she couldn't give the exact date and time she had discarded her vows of marriage and fidelity, the moment was long past.

They stepped inside the empty house. She toed off her shoes, tried to keep herself together, to pretend this was just another casual Friday night at home but the distraction was impossible to ignore. Beside her, Ted made himself home like he had been here before a thousand times. His jacket dropped on the back of an armchair – Sam's chair by the fake fireplace. She could feel his eyes on her, seizing her up and down. Not meeting them was hard, but once she turned and matched his gaze, that was harder still. She turned back around. Her hands were shaking so bad she clutched the back of the sofa, to no avail.

"Do you… Do you want something to drink? A snack? I made cookies yesterday and…"

In two long strides he was behind her. An arm wrapped tight around her waist and she felt his lips so close to her neck she was burning with his breath.

"I'm not fucking hungry," he growled. His body was pressing into hers so intimately she was certain he could feel every curve, every part of her. "Not for cookies. You know what I want."

His lips brushed against her neck and she was certain she was too feeble to stand but every second led into the next and still here she was, standing in Ted's embrace and his kisses covering all the skin he could reach. She let out a moan after stifling ten and Ted turned her around. His arm brought her so close that, pressed together, she felt the bulge of him against her stomach. What else had she expected, bringing a man home in her husband's absence? If Ted was here, it was only to do what she had tolerated, then encouraged every step of the way. He put two fingers flat under her chin, demanding her eyes to meet his.

"And you want it too," he said simply and all Charlotte could do was nod helplessly at the truth so plainly laid out.

It wasn't that Ted was her first choice. He wasn't even her choice at all. She had chosen the one and only man of her life when she had sworn her wedding vows. She loved Sam, for all she hated him sometimes, hated the way he made her feel. Being around him was often more lonely than being on her own.

She didn't love Ted. She didn't know what it was she felt for him, probably nothing more than fleeting flattery. What she knew for sure was that she never felt invisible around him. He talked to other people like a challenge to overcome, a goal to achieve, always trying to one them up and show himself the better, smarter man. Charlotte did not know how much she cared to participate in the competition he had created all on his own, but she knew that when he had taken to talking to her, she had talked back. And back and back, and soon more often than not just on their own, and then it had not been just talk, touches lingering when they should not and she had started to wonder if she had crossed a line. An unexpected kiss he had sneaked on her one time they had both reached for a cup in the break room and she had no longer wondered. Now inviting him to her house for the first time and being touched by him, craved by him, she had never felt more visible. She asked herself whether she still felt lonely and came up short of an answer.

He kissed her. They had kissed before and not just the once, but not many times either and the thrill of it was still just as exhilarating as the first. She wondered if she would let the affair linger long enough for the edge to dull. For the present, it was sharp enough to cut right through her. His hand at the back of her neck pressed her face to his, his arm trapping her close and he kissed her harder than she ever remembered being kissed. The back of the sofa wasn't a stable seat and her thoughts were shakier still, but somehow, the unfamiliarity of his kisses soothed her down, focused her to the present and nothing beyond. He didn't kiss like Sam. Rougher, for sure, touching on forceful but nothing he did was less than eagerly craved by her. Worse than the drinking and the smoking and all the rest, Ted was wholly intoxicating to her. It had been long coming and she had fallen right into his trap one little step at a time. She saw now that the addiction was well past the point of no return.

The hand left her neck and in she missed it instantly, missed being held and guided through the crashing wave of conflicting emotions she was feeling. But he kissed her again and between their bodies, she felt him reach down and unbuckle his belt one-handed and ever more her emotions leaned much more heavily on the one side. Together, their fingers wrapped around his dick and her heart raced wild.

"Oh god," she breathed out but she was beyond heavenly help now.

Here too, he was different than Sam. There was the size, of course, bigger and getting bigger still the more she touched him. She'd had blind cues of that before, a couple of times he had not-so-accidentally pressed himself into her back in moments of perdition, let her feel him as a forewarning of what they both had known would eventually come. How well she felt him now. Filling up in her palm, he was harder than Sam had been in years, pathetic once-a-month nights where she was left wanting for more every time. More was Ted. _He_ wanted her. He might have wanted any other willing woman, she was sure, but in this instant, he was here with her alone and he desired her. That made her growl in pleasure and she tore from his kisses and sank to her knees.

"_Fuck_," he let out.

She tugged down his pants to mid-thigh and he stumbled back to sit on the arm of the closest chair. The sudden humiliating memory came back of a particular time she had tried to pleasure Sam and, no matter her efforts, he had remained limp between her lips. Ted was nothing like. Rock hard already, harder still when she wrapped her mouth around him, taking him as far as she could. She looked up at him, his mouth half open in a silent moan that never actually came, and felt tears welling up in her eyes. Ted gave her a wicked grin and rubbed them clean before they could roll down.

"Easy now," he said. "Don't choke and die on me."

She laughed, tried to, and Ted sighed out at the sensation around him. Whatever it was she was doing, he was enjoying it. He was enjoying her. She focused, emboldened by the realization, wrapped her tongue around him, sucked on him, giving the both of them what she had fantasized about on multiple occasions in some moments of solitary weakness. How very far from lonely she felt now. He wouldn't look away even for a moment. His hand was cupping her jaw, accompanying every bob of her head, his eyes darting from her mouth to her eyes and back again, staring so intensely it was near uncomfortable. He licked his lip and she took him even deeper.

"You like that, don't you?" He muttered and, ashamed as she was, she nodded.

Her hand caught up with her mouth, the other massaging his balls, and he gave her a lazy satisfied smile. Much more gently than she could ever have expected, he brushed a curl of hair behind her ear and his fingers lingered at her cheek again with a new kindness.

"I knew you would," he said. "I've noticed you, Charlotte. I've seen you."

She moaned out around him and his breath hitched for just a heartbeat. He hadn't even needed to say that, not when she knew that so plainly already. She knew he saw her. That had been her downfall in the first place. But neither said anything more and she was content to be seen of him. His piercing eyes, dark brown and terribly handsome, looking deep into hers as if he had figured out all of her secrets. His hips rocked faintly into her and more than ever before, she felt this connection between them she couldn't resist. Everything she did to him was a part of something they shared together, a gift given so enthusiastically only because it was so well received.

"Hey," he said and his hand stilled hers.

His dick popped out of her mouth with a wet sound and she felt drool drip down her chin sloppily. She blinked.

"C'mere," he gestured.

He sank back sideways across the chair, taking in the space for himself, so deliciously casual. She straddled his lap straight into his begging embrace. They kissed again. How familiar that had was starting to become. His hands slipped up her sweater, pulling it off of her, and the blouse underneath. The touch of him was electrifying.

"You're a hottie, you know," he said. "You don't have to hide that under fugly sweaters."

Her cheeks burned up. She couldn't remember when she had last been flirted with before him, especially as crudely as he did now. She ought to feel offended, to push him away or throw him out, but she couldn't feel anything but entranced. With a smug grin, he reached behind her back and unhooked her bra in one smooth motion. The garment and the last of her inhibitions fell away dully.

"And you got a great rack, too," he added.

Proving his words, he cupped a breast in his hand, caressed a nipple with an insistent thumb before popping it into his mouth. She sighed, combed her fingers through his hair. Short hair. Dark. She liked it a lot.

"Ted…"

His other hand was finding its way under her skirt and she could have squealed when he pushed the damp fabric of her underwear to the side and touched her. Several fumbling times, she had tried on her own to imagine and mimic the touch of his she desired, not amounting to much. She didn't know how to touch herself, how to care for herself, hardly how to please others, try as she might. Ted, she quickly learned, was much more adept, even an expert. Two fingers curled up inside her and made her delirious with pleasure – she wondered how much was earned and how much was simply the relief of amped up anticipation.

"Wet as a faucet," he sneered. His breath burned hot against her chest. "You like sucking dick that much, huh? Is this what's getting you all worked up?"

It wasn't just the actual acts, she knew, though that was part of it all too. It was the way he looked at her when she did it, the touch of his, how tangible and real she felt around him. Ted kissed her breast one last time and switched to the other, tracing teasing circles around her nipple with the tip of his tongue. How cherished she felt. If nothing else, at least her body mattered to him, her pleasure. If nothing else, in his hands she was alive.

"Or rather… I know you want me to fuck you," he said in a low voice that frightened her, so seductive she found it.

His thumb flattened against her clit, pressing hard, too hard, and she squirmed into the touch despite herself.

"Don't you?"

She nodded and tried to stroke him again but he seized her wrist to stop her. Entwining their fingers, he pulled the hand flat to his chest. His heartbeat was strong, stable, nothing like the pulsing mess of hers.

"Say it."

The pleasure was too sudden, too new to tame, impossible to think through. Ted's fingers pressed up in her and she sighed out a strangled choke, grinded herself against his palm for more.

"_Ted_," she begged.

The hand stilled. She wanted more, needed more, and tried to push herself into his touch again but he pulled the hand away entirely and looked at her expectantly.

"I want you," she said eventually in a slur that was hardly her voice at all.

His thumb was back on her clit, much more lightly now, just teasing the rest out of her, a display of insufferable torture. She was weak against him, far too weak.

"I want you to fuck me."

He kissed her neck, up to her ear and she felt every inhale and exhale deafeningly loud. Slow fingers untied her hairband and he shook out her hair, letting it run wild. Scratches against her scalp. She purred in frustration and desire.

"How do you want me to fuck you?" He whispered into her ear.

Not in her bed, she knew that much. She couldn't do that to Sam or to herself, for she would be cursing herself for every night to come if she dared.

"We have a spare bedroom," she said, gesturing vaguely at the door on the far end of the hall.

In a silly display of strength, he carried her there. Across his arms, she was light as a feather and giggled at the smug grin he gave her. She didn't remember the last time she had giggled so naturally, so easily. She was quite certain that Ted must have been the reason the previous time as well, and many times before, too. He pushed the door open with his foot. Carefully, he lay her down on the bed and she felt so incredibly exposed under his gaze. She bit her lip, leaned up on her elbows to match his look. His body was much too covered still.

"I'll take that off, please and thank you," he said and pulled off her skirt with her eager help. "That as well."

He slid panties off her legs and his fingers immediately came between them again, touching her, keeping up an interest that had never faded in the first place. He was sitting on the edge of the bed and she tried to pull him to her, but he stood again and started unbuttoning his shirt leisurely, painfully slow.

"You can touch yourself," he said. Another button, then another. Charlotte couldn't look away. "Or is that something you don't do?"

For most of her life, she had not. Then, a couple years into her marriage, she had realized that things with Sam would not, in fact, go back to the way they were and she had tried to take her pleasure into her own literal hands. She wasn't very good at it, though, and she had not tried very often, more discouraged than satisfied by all her attempts. But for Ted, she wanted to try again and do better. She did then, fingers pressing into herself in the absence of that which she craved most. She whimpered. He looked at her, momentarily distracted but shook his head with a satisfied grin and shrugged off the shirt.

"You're so wet I can hear it from here," he laughed.

She should have been ashamed of herself for making herself such a sinful display of lust, but under his eyes she was nothing but enticing and attractive and that filled her with forbidden pride.

"I should have known sooner you were a freak," he said, "That you needed this so bad."

She did, she truly did. For months, this secret between them had been growing bigger and bigger, the touches and later the kisses, empty halls and rooms and once some intense making out for much too long in a supply closet, but everything unspoken till finally she could take it no longer. When Sam had told her he would be out of the house for the weekend, she had immediately let Ted know. Without her even asking, he had invited himself over. How welcome he was, she did not need to tell him.

"I knew you were hot, but I thought you were a prude. But you're not, are you?"

He looked at the frantic rub of her fingers between her legs, then back at her flushed face. Shoes off, pants all the way off, he stretched himself and joined her in bed.

"I should've hit on you sooner, that's on me."

He stopped her hand. Under her watchful eyes, he pulled it to his mouth and sucked on her fingers hungrily. Charlotte's mouth fell open. One last kiss against her knuckles and he dropped the hand.

"But now finally I've got you."

He parted her legs. Seating himself between them, he sank into her in one quick slide till their hips met. Just like that, she told herself, she had fallen.

The first thrust was torture, every pore of her body screaming betrayal. She thought she saw Sam's face above her for a fleeting moment. But Sam didn't grip her body so snug, didn't kiss her so hard, didn't gaze down into her eyes so intensely she thought she might faint. It was Ted who brushed hair out of her eyes to beg them to his, who stared only at her as he pinned her down, who touched her like he had been half as craved of contact as she was. Without trying, she couldn't have been any more acutely aware that Ted was the one fucking her – better and more thoroughly than she ever had been fucked. His eyes glinted with something teasing and malicious, like he could see right through her and made it his mission to remind her with every passing second that she was indeed giving herself to him and him alone.

He was passionate. A quick pace, though not to the point of rushing or being selfish. Every thrust of his hips went easier, better, and not a minute had passed before Sam was entirely out of her mind. She had wanted this, craved it, and still now that she had it, she realized she had not known in the slightest how much she had actually needed it. Her arms clung to Ted's on either side of her face and she pushed herself up into his maddening pace, trying to match every roll of his hips with hers. Open-mouthed, he stared down at her and she thought, she hoped she was right in believing he had wanted her even a fraction of how ardently she had wanted him and his attentions.

"You're…" He was panting. Leaning down, he gave her a sloppy kiss, tongue pressing into her mouth. "You're fucking hot, Charlotte."

He slowed down tauntingly. In one smooth roll of his hips, he pulled out almost entirely and slid back in sharply. Some sucking sound Charlotte ought to be self-conscious about but all she could do was moan. She felt so completely filled, stretched to the fullest.

"You hear that? You're so fucking wet."

What could she do but roll along for the ride? She lost herself in him till she forgot everything else. Nothing mattered but the rhythm of him, the hard beat of her heart coursing through her entire body and the breath that was starting to come short. She relented her hold on his arms and saw she had left marks on his skin, so tight she had been gripping. How clingy she must seem to him, but he wanted her to be, didn't he? Her attentions were captured and appreciated, every touch repaid. He kissed her, kissed her again, stroke her cheek, her hair, and under him she felt more beautiful, more desirable than she had ever dreamed she could be.

"You wanna get on top?" He asked in a low voice.

She had no idea how he was still even capable of speaking. She admired that about him, how much more grounded than her he was, a rock she crashed against in waves. They looked at each other as he came to a still, lodged deep inside her, staring down. A kiss, far too tender for the circumstances, and she gave a nod. In seconds, Ted pulled out of her, laid back onto the bed, waited for her.

Charlotte had near forgotten how to be enticing, working only on deeper instincts, on the way Ted looked at her. She straddled his lap, noting to herself how much she missed the feel of him inside her and promptly wanting it back. She wasn't comfortable, nor was she confident, but as Ted gripped her hips and pulled her to him, none of it mattered at all and they guided him back inside her together. Then only, she could breathe again.

"That's it," he said, helping her hips along the motion for her. "You look so pretty from down here, you know. Toddies jiggling and all."

"Ted, I... I'm..."

She didn't know what she was saying and her thought never got finished, but Ted spoke enough for the both of them.

"I've thought about this for like, weeks," he went on. "I wanted you bouncing on my dick, can't tell you how many times I've jerked off thinking about it."

Her hands flat on his chest, she was sinking onto him over and over, trying to find the same delicious pace he had given her before, but much more awkward at it than him. He didn't seem to mind. He slid down a hand between them, pressed his thumb against her clit with every thrust of hers.

"A few times at work in the bathroom," he said. "I don't fucking care. Almost fucked you right there in the break room. We could stay late and try that sometimes."

She didn't know if he was making it all up, rambling whatever lies he thought would turn her on, or if there was any truth to it. She didn't care either way. Distant memories came rushing back and old sensations overwhelmed her again, and she knew that climax was near. She quickened the pace, chasing the feeling as hard as she could and Ted could only follow along. His hips were bucking up into her, filling her so exquisitely. How long had she denied herself this pleasure? She didn't know how to forgive herself, both for the lonely years and for the present indulging.

"_Fuck_," he blurted out.

She felt so entirely full for once in her life, whichever part of her usually empty now filled with Ted's attention. The thumb insisting on her clit, his fingers underneath rubbed against the point where their bodies joined with every slide in and out and all her senses were mingling into one another to utter madness. She forgot about her shame, about her hatred of herself, about the solitude that was always, always on her mind. For a brief moment of glory, she was brave, she was proud. All thoughts disappeared and were replaced by bliss.

"Fuck," he said again, a low growl when he felt she was gone.

She rode out her pleasure on him as hard, as intensely as she possibly could. How many years since the last time she had felt like this? An eternity, and likely never at all. Sam had grown bored with her months, maybe years into their marriage and not too long after, she had given up on herself as well. She squinted her eyes shut and took what life had eventually handed to her. She felt Ted's grip tighten as he caught up with her, pushing himself over the brink in a rush of erratic thrusts. He groaned loudly as he came. His hands released her and he hummed in satisfaction, rubbed gentle circles against her thighs. She opened her eyes again, panting.

Her thoughts caught up before her breath and before she knew it, Charlotte was choking bitterly on regret. First orgasm in − how many years? She broke into silent sobs, every inch of her body shaking with guilt and shame and, yes, lingering pleasure. She hadn't been such a bad wife up until this point, or at least up until the many small mistakes of losing herself to Ted's horrible advances. Of course, there had been the unspoken issues between her and Sam. Her inability to give him children like she had always wanted, he knew about. The drinking and smoking and gambling, he did not. But she had kept his home, cooked for him, cleaned up after him, and she had never spoken a word against him. What was all that worth now? What was she worth?

"Oh, fuck," Ted cried out when he realized she was crying, which did everything to make her cry all the more. "Charlotte, what the fuck?"

He sat up to hold her. She felt the obscenely wet slide of him pulling out of her and for half a second she was terrified he would shirk away in disgust forever, slam that door never to look at her again. Had it been worth it? Her dignity seemed a heavy price for one good fuck. Desperately, she clung to his shoulders, begging for the comforting embrace she didn't deserve. Her face full of tears was making a wet patch in the crook of his neck but she could have cried even more at the relieved realization that he didn't push her away. For her part, she was repulsed with herself.

"Come on, don't cry," he said.

He was patting her back with what she supposed was awkwardness, but there was the same tenderness to him as before, too. She had had a taste of it even before today, months of working her up, gentle brushes as he passed behind her in the break room, a stroke of his fingers against her neck when he walked by her desk and no one was looking, that one meeting he had made her blush crimson caressing her thigh under the table. It clashed with how selfish, how rude she knew him to be too, especially with others. A hidden side of him that made her feel like she wasn't completely irrational in her crazy choices. It was the thrill of being touched again, of feeling alive again, but she lived only because Ted had woken her again. Him alone.

"I know I'm good but you'll have to get over it because there's plenty more where that came from."

She snorted, smiling through another sob. He lay her down, held her close against him. How long since the last time she had been cuddled like this? Draped half over him, she felt sore and numb, satiated and famished. The sobs slowed down and faded into quiet breathing.

"I haven't..." She searched for her words. Ted was rubbing her back, her butt, and she groaned in satisfaction the closer down his fingers were venturing. "I haven't felt like this in a very long time."

He pushed one leg to grant himself better access and Charlotte pushed the other out of the way, hoisting herself up against him to better let him touch her. She had just had her fill, immense relief after years of craving, and yet in his hands she was weak and wanting again. She could have laughed at herself, so silly the palpitations of her heart. She could have cried more. His fingers pressed inside her effortlessly, still wet and sticky, still more than ready for him. She moaned. Her hips were naturally rolling into his touch and he seemed to relish in that, in his ability to bring her to his mercy with one twist of his fingers.

"Yeah, I can tell," he scoffed.

He kissed her ear, her cheek, down her neck and his mustache tickled against her skin, insufferably sensitive after their endeavors. He seemed to take notice of the fact and grinned, nuzzled her neck teasingly and kissed more till she giggled. With the back of her hand, she wiped off her tears.

"You know what would make you feel better?"

She shook her head. He parted her legs further and she felt so very exposed, so indecent, her cheeks burning up, all parts of her catching fire in turn. A third finger stretching her and she wanted him more than ever.

"Ted..." She tried to reproach him but both of them knew the protest was a show of false modesty, entirely voided by the kiss that followed.

"Fucking," he said as if any explanation had been required – he liked speaking crudely for the sake of shocking her. "I can go again in like fifteen, but in the mean time..."

He pushed her flat on her back. She loved how intuitively, naturally he maneuvered her, not a trace of awkwardness or self-consciousness. She wished she had his confidence. In the absence of it, she would take every bit of unabashed pleasure he gave her. His face dipped between her legs and it was all Charlotte could do not to cry out.

Later, Monday for sure, she would be Sam's wife again and hate herself for what she had done even more than she already did. Later, the guilt would come back in force and she would dwell in it and double up her efforts to fix a marriage that didn't want to be fixed. For now, a fire was burning inside her, a fire she had never believed could be kindled again after years of dry lonely ashes. And for now, she wasn't going to smother it down. She was going to fan it, if only for the rest of the weekend, till it burned bright and swallowed her up in flames.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I know this is really mostly sex but I'd love it if you gave me a comment, maybe if you'd be interested in other Starkid or TGWDLM fics from me! Let me know!


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